


Corrective Behaviour

by ProneToRelapse



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blindfolds, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Spreader Bars, Vibrators, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 06:39:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15407208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProneToRelapse/pseuds/ProneToRelapse
Summary: They don't like each other. Until they do.





	Corrective Behaviour

**Author's Note:**

> this was literally just an exercise. i wanted to dabble in this relationship bc i loooove Nines. Gavin... meh. This is most likely the only Reed900 centric fic I'll ever write, which is probably why it's a bit... messy, i guess.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

The whole mess starts, as these things often do, with an innocent enough question asked on a rainy Wednesday in June. The day didn’t start off that great, but Gavin had been cautiously optimistic that maybe something might change and he wouldn’t spend the entire day wet, grumpy and tired.  

 

It didn’t, and to give you a little clarification, the innocuous exchange goes like this: 

 

“Detective Reed? Could I borrow you for a moment?” 

 

Gavin groans and lets his head fall down onto the desk. “I literally just got here. I haven’t even had coffee. Can you just give me ten minutes before you bother me?” 

 

The plastic trash can doesn’t take the hint that isn’t a hint and is actually a blatant request to be left the  _fuck_  alone.  

 

“I understand, Detective, but this is a rather pressing personal matter and I would prefer to discuss it as soon as possible.” 

 

Gavin turns his head to glare at him. “Personal? Why the fuck you gotta bother me with this shit?” 

 

“Because I would like your opinion.” 

 

Well, that’s a fucking new one. And goddamn it, now Gavin is actually curious. He scowls but gets up anyway. “Fine. But I want a coffee.” 

 

“I will make you one,” Connor says. “There is no reason to resort to violence this time.” 

 

Yeah, fuck. Gavin does actually feel bad about that. Not that he’ll ever admit it.  _Ever._  

 

He follows robocop through to the break room, flopping down onto the couch while he pours him a coffee from the decrepit machine. He brings it over and sits down, perching awkwardly on the edge of the sofa, careful not to sit too close.  

 

“Thanks,” Gavin mumbles as he takes the coffee. “So what do you want to bother me about today?” 

 

Robocop is quiet for a long moment, that stupid LED on his head flashing yellow. “I have a… That is to say, an android has come into my care. Recently deviated. He is… Not yet accustomed to human interaction or emotion. I was hoping perhaps you would take him on as your partner with the Captain’s approval.” 

 

Gavin snorts into his coffee. “You want me to  _what?_ Shit, I gotta ask, since you’re supposed to be smart. What in the hell gives you the idea that I want a plastic sucker following me around? Just ‘cause you got Anderson to like you doesn’t mean the rest of us will follow.” 

 

“I didn’t get Hank to “like me”,” Connor says with a hint of irritation. “I got him to  _marry_ me. And as much as you like to deny it, Detective, I’m fully aware that you don’t hate me as much as you like to pretend.” 

 

“I  _tolerate_  you,” Gavin snipes. “I have to, or Fowler will have my ass.” 

 

“Regardless, I would appreciate your help in this matter. The android is… He’s the upgraded model of me. We found him powered down in a CyberLife storage unit. I suppose you could say he’s the android equivalent of a brother to me.” 

 

“You want me to babysit your brother?” 

 

“An apt description, I suppose.” 

 

“Yeah, sorry, I’m not gonna do that.” 

 

Connor shrugs. “Well, at least I asked first.” 

 

“Yeah, that’s— Wait, what do you mean “asked first”?” 

 

“Reed!” Fowler barks from the bullpen. “My office.  _Now.”_  

 

Gavin glares at Connor.  

 

“I attempted to ask you reasonably,” Connor says. “I doubt the Captain will be as… Tactful.” 

 

“I fucking,” Gavin says emphatically, “ _hate_  androids.” 

 

And that was the beginning of it. But far,  _far_  from the end of it.  

 

Two months was all it took. Two months under the stoically watchful eye of the taller, broader,  _meaner_  version of the shitty, chipper android that Gavin maybe secretly doesn’t hate as much as he lets on. Connor had introduced the tall beast of an android as “Nines,” and while Nines was allegedly deviant, he sure didn’t fucking act like it.  

 

Gavin’s a good detective for three reasons.  

 

One: he’s relentless. He’ll hound a suspect until they drop, gnaw at a lead until he draws a bloody confession. He doesn’t give up, he doesn’t give in. He’s got a respectable amount of collars under his belt and he prides himself on his results.  

 

Two: he doesn’t take any shit, and gives as good as he gets. He’s never  _ever_  let anyone walk all over him. Not in the academy, not since he joined the DPD, and not since he made Detective.  

 

Three: 

 

…Alright, maybe that’s it, but those reasons are enough! 

 

What he emphatically did not need or want, was some straight-laced, uptight, by-the-book android breathing down his neck to keep him in line like a glorified plastic babysitter. But that’s exactly what he fucking got.  

 

Except it really fucking wasn’t.  

 

Because Nines? Oh boy. Turns out even the most seemingly indomitable androids have breaking points. And Gavin had been toeing the thin line of Nines’ patience a lot more closely than he’d thought.  

 

And Gavin can’t even remember what the final straw had been. It might’ve been waving his gun in the plastic prick’s face, or threatening to melt him into slag, or any of the other plentiful variations Gavin spewed at him on the daily.  

 

If he’s being honest with himself, it was probably actually attempting to yank the pump regulator out of his stupidly broad chest. He wasn’t  _actually_ going to do it, but Nines had finally snapped like a charred piece of kindling, pinning Gavin against the wall of the evidence room, icy eyes hard as steel.  

 

“I’ve had quite enough of your bratty attitude,  _Detective_ ,”he’d snarled, face inches from Gavin’s who, by not definite relation to the current turn of events, was rock fucking solid in his jeans. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think your idiotic attempts at sabotaging this partnership were part of a ridiculous ploy to catch my attention.” 

 

“Step on me,” Gavin had choked because, honestly? Fuck it.  

 

And Gavin really doesn’t know whether to be bitterly resentful or bended knee, praises to god, whole _heartedly_  fucking thankful that Nines had finally seen through the stupid, aggressive flirting Gavin had been trying – and failing – so hard to pull off. When you’re an asshole in one aspect of your life, it kind of bleeds into other parts as well. So Gavin’s not as good at conveying his interest as he likes to think he is.  

 

In any case, grateful or not, it’s hard to be anything coherent when there’s a solid, steel plated hand pressing against your windpipe steadily cutting off your air supply.  

 

And now that you’re all caught up, here’s where Gavin’s at right now.  

 

“Are you going to be good now, Detective?” Nines’ voice is a low purr to Gavin’s left. He can only tell because it’s his left hand that’s wrapped around Gavin’s throat like a vice. He can’t see shit with the blindfold covering his eyes, and it’s not like he can reach out for him when he’s shackled to the bed frame. His ass and thighs are stinging, lined with thin red stripes he can’t see from Nines’ enthusiastic use of a riding crop. Gavin doesn’t even  _own_ a riding crop. Did Nines bring it with him? Why did  _he_ own a riding crop?! 

 

“ _Yes,”_  Gavin chokes out, barely audible.  

 

“Try again, Detective.” 

 

Gavin sucks in as much air as he can, light-headed and dizzy, lungs burning from lack of oxygen. “Yes,  _S-Sir.”_  

 

He’s rewarded by a sharp pulse from the vibrator in his ass. His back arches and he tugs on the restraints as he cries out hoarsely, trying to grind down against the fleeting sensation that’s gone before he can chase it. He tries again to draw his legs together, but the bar strapped between them keeps them apart. All he can do is writhe uselessly, panting when Nines moves his hand away from Gavin’s throat.  

 

Nines is a fucking kinky bastard and he  _loves_  it.  

 

“I’m not entirely convinced you’ve learned your manners, Detective,” Nines croons, footsteps muffled by the carpet as he moves round the bed. Fucker’s still fully clothed while Gavin’s trussed up on the bed stark fucking naked. His cock twitches at the thought and he shudders as Nines runs a light fingertip along the underside of the swollen flesh, hissing as he digs a finger into the slit at the tip.  

 

“ _Please,”_  Gavin pants, because they’ve been at this for  _hours_ , and if he doesn’t come soon he’s gonna fucking  _die. “Please,_ letmecome _._ Sir _, please.”_  

 

There’s a long moment of heavy silence where the only sound is Gavin’s ragged panting and the creak of leather against wood.  

 

“It seems I was mistaken,” Nines muses softly. “That was very nearly polite of you.” 

 

The toy in his ass pulses again, steady this time, oscillating charges of pleasure that send Gavin’s body spasming and his cock leaking. He gasps and whines, rocking his hips down against the mattress to push the toy deeper, drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. 

 

He must look a fucking state.  

 

“This is a very good look on you, Detective. Desperate to come. I like you better this way.” 

 

Gavin moans. It’s all he can do. He’s cresting, has been for what feels like fucking  _years_ , balancing just on the edge of coming but Nines won’t  _fucking let him._  

 

“ _Please—“_  He can only just get the word out.  

 

His world tilts alarmingly, a surprised cry ripping out of his throat as his hips are hoisted up roughly and the vibrator is yanked out none too gently. It  _hurts_  the sudden achingly hollow feeling that follows in the absence of the toy and he whimpers – god fucking damn it, he  _whimpers_  – but then. Oh  _fuck,_  he’s yelling, voice cracking as a cock, thick, hard,  _long_ _,_ is pushing into his ass, pushing up against that spot that makes flashes streak across his closed eyelids, shoving the breath out of his lungs with how deep it hits.  

 

And fuck, he’s  _coming_. Hard, streaking across his cheeks, up his chest, and it fucking  _hurts_  it’s so good and he’s yelling, practically screaming.  

 

And Nines is doesn’t  _stop._ He rolls his hips hard, rough, driving deep and Gavin feels like a nerve, raw and exposed but fuck, it’s too good, he wants more, whatever Nines will give him he’ll take gladly. He writhes and yells as Nines splits him deep, hands gripping Gavin’s hips tight enough to bruise while the fabric of his jeans scratches at Gavin’s ass and thighs.  

 

Fuck, he’s gonna come again. He’s gonna come again, but he can’t, he has to ask, he can’t unless Nines says— 

 

“Come for me, Detective.  _Now.”_  

 

It’s the easiest fucking thing in the world to obey and it’s a weak fucking orgasm, practically dry but it still sends shockwaves rippling through Gavin’s body, ripping another pathetic cry from his throat. He whines, sagging bonelessly as Nines spills inside his ass, filling him up so deliciously that he feels come spilling down his thighs as Nines growls and pulls out.  

 

He can’t do much but lie there as Nines moves around him, unlocking cuffs and loosening straps until Gavin can curl up weakly on his side, still shuddering through after shocks. He drifts in and out of consciousness and is almost asleep when solid arms lift him up against an unyielding chest, carrying him into the low lit bathroom and lowering him into a blissfully hot bath.  

 

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’?” Gavin slurs through a pleased groan, glaring through narrowed eyes. “Fuckin’ bath?” 

 

“Shush,” Nines says, kneeling beside the tub and slowly rubbing a washcloth over Gavin’s oversensitive skin. “Just relax.” 

 

“‘M relaxed,” Gavin mumbles, head lolling to one side. The hot water feels like it’s seeping into his bones, chasing away the ache. God, his ass hurts. He’s so fucking happy it’s disgusting.  

 

“Are you washin’ my hair?” 

 

“Shush. And keep your eyes closed or you’ll get shampoo in them.” 

 

“I don’t like you.” 

 

“The feeling is mutual, Detective.” 

 

“Stay tonight?” 

 

“Of course, Detective.” 

 

 

 

 


End file.
